


An Undergound Circus

by WishingDeathUponButterflies



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Contortist Us Papyrus, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Firebender Uf Papyrus, Heavyweight lifter US sans, Illusionist Uf Sans, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Ringmaster W. D Gaster, Sans doesn’t know what the fuck he got himself into, Slow Burn, Sword thrower sf sans, Underground Circus Au, Visitor Ut Papyrus, Visitor Ut Sans, W. D Gaster gets all, W. D Gaster is a bad Person, lion tamer sf sans, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-23 13:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingDeathUponButterflies/pseuds/WishingDeathUponButterflies
Summary: ‘A circus had arrived without warning.It simply was there, when yesterday it was not.’Sans visits a circus that he had remebered visiting in his childhood. Only to find that the souls that performed dreaded dawn.





	1. The Show Has Just Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s fallen in love with this enthralling place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve merged chapter one and two, please don’t mind this change, thank you!  
> Feel free to listen to this while reading!  
> Suggested By Alanis_Strife  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVwqkBG0ulE

There was a circus that had appeared without warning. No announcements, no flyer notices on the billboards that were downtown, no mention in the local newspapers. It simply appeared.  
The towering tents were patterned with bold blacks and vivid reds, no gold or white was seen. No colour save for the neighbouring trees and grass of the surrounding fields.  
The tents varied in sizes with a cast of iron fence encasing them in a colourless world.  
It hadn’t been open for business. Not yet at least. Within hours everyone in his tainty town had heard news of it. By noon, nearby towns knew of this strange circus. Rumours were more powerful than advertisement than he typing of words and exclamations on posters.  
It was strange how almost everyone in the area had heard of the ominous circus. He had marveled at the clock that sits just inside the gates that no one can describe.  
There was a black sign painted in white letters that hang outside the gates. The words are written in elegant cursive 

Opens by Twilight  
Closed at Dawn

People scoffed at the idea.  
‘What kind of circus only opens at night?’  
No one receives answer for these questions, yet as dusk approaches, there is sea of spectators gathering outside the gates.  
He and his brother were amongst them, of course. His curiosity got the better of him, as curiosity is his only weakness. You stand in the fading light, holding the scarf around your brother’s neck as to not lose him.  
The ticket booth is clearly visible behind the gates is barred shut. The tents are still deputy the constant soft ripple of wind. Within the circus, the only movement the ticking of the grand clock.  
The circus seemed abandoned yet he can smell the sweet scent of melting caramel wafting along with the evening breeze.  
As the sun fades above the horizon, people around him grow restless and there’s shuffling of feet as people part. He and his brother are determined but are debating on departing as well.  
There’s a soft popping sound, barely audible over the quiet chatter and the blowing winds. It’s sound similar of a screaming kettle.  
Then comes the sparkle of lights. The tents are adorned with small bulbs of light as though the entirety of the circus was illuminated by mad fireflies. The crowd grows quiet as they watch the display. Someone near him gasps in surprise as a small human child clasps their hands together in glee as the mother hushes them.  
The bulbs pop as they brighten, some sparkle with white sparks and a puff of smoke.  
The people nearest to the gate take few steps back, at first there’s only a random pattern of lights. As more lights flicker to life, it spells out a simple message in French.

Le Cirque Souterrain

The crowd him in confusion. Some smile knowingly, being familiar with French. He personally did not speak french and his confusion is clear. The child tugs at her mother’s sleeves, a want for a translation. The mother leans down toward her child and whispers.  
‘The Underground Circus.’  
The iron gates screech as the unlock, seeming complete on their own. They swing outwards, inviting monsters and humans alike inside.  
The circus is now open.  
He may enter now.

With the ticket in hand, he and his brother follow a continuous line of patrons in to the circus, watching the rhythmic motion of the black and crimson clock as they wait.  
Beyond the ticket booth, the only way forward is through heavy striped curtains. One by one, each person passes through it, vanishing from sight.  
When it is he and his brother’s turn to pass through, he pulls back the fabric and step forward, only to be engulfed by darkness as the curtains close again. It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust as tiny dots of light begin to appear in the darkness as if they were stars and he is led out by the small shine.  
He steps into a bright, open courtyard surrounded by striped tents. Curving pathways along the perimeter lead farther along the wooden painted floors, turning into unseen mysteries dotted with twinkling lights.  
There are tall men, furry monsters with thick black coats and happy masks yelling joyous tones into the crowd, selling refreshments and sweets flavoured with vanilla, caramel and chocolate.  
A skeleton contortionist in a sparkling black costume twists on a platform nearby, bending his body into impossible shapes. He’s a lanky, tall skeleton with a sharp skull and he’s got the most gorgeous laid back smile.  
A smaller performer is close by. Notable by the bright blue bandana he wears around his neck, despite having everything else being a black and crimson, save for the shine in both performer’s bones. The smaller performer is adorable I. His own way, with a bright smile and a seemingly caring personality.  
The weightlifter tosses globes of black, red and silver, they hover before finally falling into the performer’s hand. He seems to struggle holding onto the globes as they are assumable made of heavy iron.  
His attentive spectators applaud him.  
Everything is bathed in a calming, glowing light.  
The light emanates from a large bonfire in the centre of the courtyard.  
As he walks closer, he can see that it sits in a wide, black, concrete cauldron, balanced on a number of stones and stacks of wood. The flames are visible through minuscule cracks that run along the entirety of the cauldron, the sight is obscured onto at the bottoms so it is impossible to tell what is burning.  
The flames are not yellow or orange but complete black as a raven’s feathers as they dance.

——-

He turned to call out for his brother and realises he had run off. His brother had never been the sort of person to stay in a single place for an extended amount of time.  
He walks forward, following the stream of people, hoping to find his brother on the way around as he explores. There’s a tent that is particularly full, people pile up outside the entrance as the curtains are pulled back and held up. He has a short stature but can slightly see the performer. It’s a skeleton much like he. The performer is short and stout with a round skull but has striking red eye lights that scream of concentration. There’s classical music playing in the background but it is barely heard over the conversation.  
The performer takes out a black handkerchief, not anything particularly interesting, it was just a black handkerchief. There’s something so beautiful about this performer.  
The performer throws the handkerchief into the air as it drifts with the wind. The flaps fold inwards on its own volition, feathers sprout from it’s sides as it twists and contorts. A screech is heard as a crow flies down from the roof of the tent, it lands on the performer’s sleeve as he bows with a blank face. No emotion is shown but there’s a sparkle in his eyes.  
The crowd cheers with excitement as chatter arises again, louder and surprise in their voice. 

He leaves the tent in silence. Looking over, he follows a path leading to a less popular tent. The tent staggers in height, it’s astonishing to him how far it reaches into the sky. He pushes the rough fabric forward to be met with an awe striking sight. It seemed as though most performers at this circus had been skeletons much like he. This performer was the tallest one he had seen by far, he slouches forward in his suit was he strikes a whip against the ground.  
The creatures that surround him let out an angered roar, their throat croaks as spit goes flying,baring their sharpened fangs and claws at him but he does not back down. He strokes his hand through their manes, as he clicks his fingers in time to their padding. There’s a cage that encases the three, it allows the audience to see the scene though protects them from the beasts.  
The lion tamer has a golden tooth that glimmers in the powerful lights and has a cold stare, similar to the illusionist.  
He looks over the audience who are staring contently at the creatures with interest. He sees none of his brother so he departs and lets go of the curtain.  
A huge bellow of shrieks emit from the tent behind him. There’s a hushed thudding noise coming from the same tent right after as the crowd grows louder.  
He ducks his head below the entrance as watches the show unfold. This performer is shorter than most, seeming younger as well. They wear a dark purple bandana around their neck that lay above their suit. There’s a crimson blindfold wrapped around his eyes as he tosses a short sword into the crowd. There’s another thud as the sword pierces a hanging cork hanging in the air. There’s a smug look on the male’s face as he poses dramatically and the crowd scream their praises. He unties the blindfold and there’s a gorgeous scar stretching over his left eye just above his cheekbone.  
There’s one last tent he hasn’t visited. It’s decorated with burn marks which is different. He pushes past the small crowd that gathers as he sees his brother sitting by the stage. There’s a tall skeleton, his eyes are bloody and he wears a dark red scarf. He seems like a handsome man, with a dominating atmosphere.  
The man holds a torch that’s lit with a flame. It was much like the bonfire in the courtyard, Black with a tinge of grey in the centre. He raises the torch to his face, inches from the flame before exhaling softly. The flames dance against the soft breeze. The skeleton takes a deep breath before blowing harshly, the flame extends, the shadows dance along the fabric of the walls but it wasn’t just some fire breather. As he blows, he taps his feet and flame fades from a deep black to a crimson.  
His brother smiles and his eyes twinkle with interest.  
He goes to collect his brother as dawn approaches. Guests are ushered out by security as vendors lead the visitors out of the gates.  
As the crowd departs, the sun begins to appear as the lights flicker off and everything settles again as if it had always been this quiet.


	2. The Show Has Ended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knew what the Ring master was capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today!

As the morning light engulfs the circus, there’s a ringing bell that encases the entire grounds. The towering ringmaster strolls from tent to tent, shaking the bell with aggression, a note to the performer’s that the patrons have left.  
A mischievous smirk crawls across his face as he approaches the illusionist’s tent. His lust filled gaze tracing the tent knowingly.  
Everyone knew what was coming. Every performer knew why the illusionist was always so quiet and cold to everyone. Yet they had all ignored it, in a fear that the ringmaster would choose a new favourite. The entire lot feared dawn, despite their happy smiles of the night.  
The lot of skeletons shuffle into the abandoned lion cage they all call a bedroom, settling in the mounds of hay that acts as a makeshift bed. There’s no sound except the quiet crackling of the bonfire and the rustling of hay. The ringmaster was a cruel man, he supplied his children with nothing other than food and water and trained them until their movements were fluid.  
The contortionist was the first to speak. His voice was quiet and had a broken ring to it.  
“Should we wait for Red?”  
“Of course. He’s had a rough day, we always wait for him don’t we.” Comes the reply from the sword thrower as the firebreather lets out an exhausted sigh.  
“If you lot go to bed, I’m still waiting for my brother.”  
“Aren’t we your siblings-“ The lion tamer rebuttles, there had been a dyed between the two. The blood child of the ring master despised his adopted siblings. The lion tamer believes that this constant quarrel between the group wasn’t going to solve anything.  
“You were the ones that caused him to suffer. I refuse to believe that you are anything more than partners.” The firebreather confirms, voice laced with hatred for his adopted siblings. He knew that the ringmaster, he and Red’s father, had adopted multiple children for his sick scheme of torture and gold.  
“You will never be family to me and I won’t let him accept you as family anytime soon.”  
Edge believed they were the cause of his brother’s torment, that if they weren’t here, his brother would still be laughing with him instead of letting out pain filled sobs in the middle of the night.  
The weight lifter had been completely silent until now. As a scream sounds from above the tents, the clad skeleton gasps in surprise. All of them had been desensitized to the illusionists agony filled screams. It was only when the ringmaster has chosen another that it is time to fear.  
As another dread hour passes, the lock of the lion’s cage clicks open. They all lift their head to see the illusionist hunched over. His head is bowed in shame as he clasps his arm. He curls up next to his brother in silence. None of them say a word of comfort as Edge wraps his arms protectively around his brother. Reassuring words don't help anymore. Especially as he feels a dampness close to his brother’s pelvic area.  
Red only lets out a sob as he holds onto the hay tightly.  
None of them wanted to be here anymore.


	3. Love Letters Sent As Paper Planes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans writes something for the one he loves.

There was something that intrigued Sans. Something that was obviously so clear yet held a simple distortion that hid everything from him. The contortionist's thin arms and legs, patterned with deep lashings or the firebreather’s ominous yet protective atmosphere that he encased his audience with. The weightlifter’s overly optimistic glow that seemed to bright up the entire circus, lighter than the bonfire could ever reach, perhaps the knife thrower’s proud flare, glaring at the audience with courage and challenge.  
There was only one that caught his eyes above the rest. 

The illusionist.

The illusionist’s deep ruby eye lights, the way he moved, the way he was so emotionless and enveloped in his work. Something about seeing him brought Sans a joy he could not express in words. The eyes were broken and saddened, something deep and alluring was hidden behind those eyes, he could feel it. He had to see him again. Like a clash of instruments, he thundered past the fields of grass, holding a intricately patterned chest craved by Sans’ mother out of a lemon tree’s bark.

He began climbing through the towering tree that he had claimed, it stood ridiculously close to the circus and staggered in height. He found his place on the highest branch off the ground as he sees his brother’s figure in the distance. Sans peers over the straggling leaves. With the birds, he hears a chorus that drags him in more.  
The tone is in a soft melody that flows gently with small bumps in the tune. It was a heartbeat. It’s a pleasant tune, he’d assume it was from the weightlifter but I barely rode into high notes as he would think the weightlifter cod reach.  
Perhaps it was the illusionist?

Sans takes out a quill and paper from his wooden chest, laying the white bark on his lap before tapping the pen against his chin in thought.  
What could he write? The point of the pen reaches the rough paper, lost in thought, he doesn’t realise the ink has collected into a dark puddle. Frowning, he crumbles up the paper and tosses it off the tree in haste.

The pile of white parchment at the root of the tree grows as time continues, Sans scrunches up his face in concentration and annoyance. He couldn’t write to save his life honestly, he almost had the writing skills of a mule.  
His brother eats food under him and talks about how he’s been. Papyrus talks about how he was so intrigued by the firebreather, the fire itself was beautiful but there was something he looked more for other than the performance. He talks about his soul’s pounding every moment he watched the fire breather. 

Sans finally puts together something he thinks is decent. It’s a short thing, a note about his love for a person he has never met so he reckons he might as well send it anonymously.

‘Enchanté, illusionniste.  
Your fierce eyes have been an imprint on my mind since the day of your arrival. A fresh image that chooses not to fade.  
Your outfit somehow perfectly encasing your figure.  
The truth is, I've fallen in love with you.  
I will continue to love you in solitude until the world crumbles to pieces and even after that.  
Merci, Anonyme’

It’s something he wrote out of his mind, the ink flows in a delicate calligraphy. He looks down below his feet at his brother who stares off into the setting sun in a daze. Sana folds the paper with care, wings begin to take shape as well as the snout of the paperplane. The writing is writing over the wings, creating a sense of tranquility.

With a deep sigh, he throws the paper plane over the iron gate and watches it disappear over the tents. He jumps down hastily before helping his brother gather his things before taking a trek back to their small town.


	4. A Fool's Meaningless Love {NSFW}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Taste of heavy misery on the tip of your tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW makes the kids happy C:

“THERE WAS THIS SKELETON AT MY TENT THE OTHER NIGHT…” Edge continued, looking at the memories of his performance, Red’s eyelights trace over the top of his brother’s head mapping out the silhouette. His left hand resting on the small folding table, his other idly stirring his now cold tea. The sunrise was beautiful if he were being honest. 

 

One of the rules of the circus was that no one was to talk to him before 8 am. That’s usually the time of the Ringmaster’s ‘quickie’ as he calls it. Despite that, he was not pulled to the tent today to participate in whatever sick pleasure the tall man had for him.  
There was never a time where he wasn’t in some form of pain, whether it be a sexual, mental or even emotional pain it was all there, taunting him.  
He let out a sigh as he listened to the morning chirping of birds.  
“Hey Red, I found this near my tent, it’s apparently for you.” Slim approached the two with a paper aeroplane clasped between his lengthy fingers, the words ‘illusionniste’ printed in cursive handwriting along the wing.  
He took the paper from the other’s hands, inspecting the parchment as Slim walked off with a slight limp in his step.

He unfolded the paper to be greeted with lines of text, _Fan mail perhaps?_  
He notes that every edge had been intricate and precise, not a single crevice was out of line it had seemed. The handwriting was shaky as if there had been a need to be quick perhaps the other was running out of time?

 

He reads the message silently as his brother’s questioning glare burns figures into his back. With every word, he scrunches up his face more. Before he can even read the second paragraph, he promptly crumbles the paper before tossing it into the nearby tents.  
Edge looks over, confusion evident on his face.

“WHY’D YOU DO THAT?” Red scoffs and smiles at his brother knowingly. 

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT SAID?”

“It was obviously a prank, boss.” Edge’s haze softens at his words. He could tell that Red had thought of compliments as a prank to further taunt him but he doubted it, his brother was an exquisite magic user after all.

“You do deserve praise, brother.” They sit in silence, listening as birds begin to become restless and wake. 

——-

The ringmaster reads the note again for the 20th time today, not taking care for the crinkles in the paper that had been haphazardly tossed to his tent. Twilight settles in slowly, shadows stretching across the grounds. The distant crackling of fire the only sound within meters.  
He begins to regain his train of thoughts that are tied together with malicious intent.

_This child is different._

 

Red was the first of Gaster’s children. Born first by his wife, he barely remembers her name. Edge had come second, he regretted asking for more children. His wife had died giving birth to Edge, she couldn’t handle it and he lost his mind.

 

He remembers the misery he saw on Red’s face, it had been the first time he had also asked for the more ‘perverted’ touches. He recalls vaguely how Red’s fingers had barely reached around his girth, pumping it in a slow motion before Gaster had forced it into his mouth.

 

A few years after that, he had become impatient and beatings were a must in his case, his fist would meet the other’s skull in a blind fit of rage and he _loved_ it.

 

Edge had gone off and told someone and Gaster had soon fled with his children. He had done something mistakenly wrong, so he changed. Creating a circus of sorts, putting his children’s talents to use, or at least train them to. Red was a naturally skilled magic user so there was no need to train him, all he needed to do was learn how to satisfy the old man.

 

Edge, on the other hand, had suffered from many things in his life. How the wooden cane would bruise his bones every time it came down. How the constant shouting was the reason why he hated talking to anyone but his own brother. How he was scared all the damn time.

The two of their acts weren’t making as much money as they should’ve so he did what he had to. He got more.  
He gathered a lot of skeleton children from the nearby orphanage and trained them for things they never wanted to learn.  
None of them was particularly appealing to Gaster, they all were one dimensional, stupid and naive yet there was always something that made them tick.  
Gaster adjusted his glasses before letting out a sigh.

How could he punish Red for hiding things from him?

———

“St- hnnng!” Red chokes against Gaster’s length as he was shoved down once again. Letting out coughs of pain, a rumble in his chest of a growl.  
Stretch let his tongue drawl against Red’s puffy lips before flicking his clit occasionally.

Stretch just had to be dragged into Red’s punishment, didn’t he?

Razz stood above the two of them, his heel digging into Red’s spine, marrow running freely from previous marks made by the shoe. 

 

His hands wielding daggers, tracing the previous scars, drawing soft patterns despite the pain.  
_Oh god, please let it end._

 

Blue gazed from a distance, outside the tent, he had never seen so many scars or blood covering the other, pupils darkening. 

Red withdraws, gasping for breath before rasping out  
“You’re a fucking freak.” Red lets out another wheezing breath as Gaster slams his fist into the other’s cheek, marrow leaking from his eye socket. Gaster gestured to Razz, before biting into Red’s neck.  
Red holds back a moan, shivering at the sensation.  
Razz begins to sob before digging the dagger into Red’s bones, tears slither down his face with an agonisingly slow pace.

He turns to Stretch who nods back at Razz, it would have been comforting despite the situation they’re in.  
Stretch let’s his cock out, lining himself up with the dripping pussy.  
Razz turns his head, not being able to bear watching his friend’s suffering. Stretch thrusts forward, Red screams against the dick in his throat, never feeling the more need to die.  
“If you make too much noise, I’ll leave you to die on the streets, you whore.” Gaster chuckles before moaning freely, his son’s throat was deliciously warm.  
Red gets some air before looking at Gaster straight in the eyes.  
“I’d rather die there than be here with you.” Stretch pace is slow which Red can appreciate, Gaster could never tell if Stretch was attempting to be a tease or just trying to save his adoptive sibling from further pain.

**There was already too much to bear anyway.**


	5. Falling, Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it possible to cry more than he already has been?d

There was nothing more annoying than the ever ringing and murmuring of the voices in his head. Stuck only with his inner monster that claws at his throat with desperation. The grim on his boot dried, it stuck to his fingers like leeches.

‘Where’s the future?’ The monster would ask him.

‘There’s no future.’   
‘I’ve nowhere to go.’ Comes his reply to the monster before looking to the ground as chains pull him underneath.

Razz clawed at his wrists one last time, the sharp talons on his fingers were sure to leave a bleeding mark. His fingers bloodied and his straw bedding completely drenched and ruined. He would have to ask of his brother to fetch some for him by the horse stables. He snaps out of his descent into darkness as he hears the cage door squeak, Blue’s eyes meet his own bright purple lights. The latter’s eyes are cast to the ground as he sits next to Razz, knees pulled close to his chest.

 

‘Red’s been.. Crying... For the last hour..’  
‘It’s more than last time.’  
The Berry murmurs before letting his skull fall onto his chest. Razz is but grateful that the other had not mentioned anything about his wrists, tugging his gloves on. He pulls at Blue’s hand before leading the other out of the lion’s cage, _this was no place for the poor Berry after all! What kind of person would let the poor thing drown in their own self-pity?_

The two of them head to the front gates, where the guests would fill in. Red, on his more pleasant days, had told the Razz that this was the best place to watch the sunrise and gaze at the stars, despite the roughness of the grass, since neither of them had any plans of sleeping.  
It was nice to sit down on the grass, or at least what wasn’t flattened by the crowd of feet from the previous night. 

 

Blue sighs, sitting next to Razz, legs crossed.   
Blue’s shoulders are stiff, feet are sore and numb from pacing and face covered in tears and the sheer exhaustion of dread that never leaves. Razz looks to the sky, filled with a sea of bright lanterns before pointing at a particularly bright one.   
‘You know, superstitious humans call that a river, a river of silver as if their ancestors represented every single star.’ Razz smiles at Blue, he knew what the latter was thinking of. All of them ended up in the orphanage for a reason, after all, they’re eyes raised to their stars for answers.

Blue’s eyes gleam up at the bright lanterns, reflecting the bright lights. It wasn’t much of question, Razz knew, Blue didn’t need an answer, neither asked of one, so he stayed silent. This was all they had, the stars, it wasn’t much but this was all that they had.   
‘What’d you do today?’   
‘..’  
Razz groans, so much for attempting to strike a conversation.  
The sounds of heavy steps startle them both but the smell of cigarettes was an instant reminder of who it was.

‘Stretch.’ Blue states bluntly, his voice barely a whisper, before going silently completely, as if he was about to say something. Blue shuffles towards Razz as the larger of the three sits on the grass, he looks on without saying a word.  
Razz’s soul’s thrumming increasing, he bares his teeth at the offending monster. His fists are clenched and his mouth is dry, filled with a slight metallic texture.  
‘Do you even know what you _caused?!_ ’ Razz lashes at the taller. Razz curses under his breath at his overly loud voice. No amount of words would be able to describe the pang in his soul, recalling the screaming, the crying, every little detail was engraved in his mind and the amount of agony he experienced during that _horrid_ time. He was powerless and yet this fool sits before him, with the audacity to believe he was worth their time. 

 

Stretch groans, sarcasm leaching off his voice, before sitting up properly.  
‘You were there too, don’t pretend you weren’t.’ He eyes the angry version of his brother. There’s hatred seeping from his voice as Stretch growls at the other. He takes another puff of his cigarette before letting it blow through his eye sockets in an array of shapes before being blown away by the howling wind.  
‘You can’t just say that! You know how these ‘sessions’ are for Red!’   
‘At least it’s not us that have to go through it okay?’  
‘He’s our brother!’  
‘He was never like us! He and that Edgelord were why we got stuck here in the first place!’  
‘It wasn’t his fault!’  
‘RED HAD NEVER MATTERED.’ Stretch snarls, he lurches at Razz, hands curled, eyelights the size of pins, it pricks Razz’s anger, mocking him. It was almost as if Stretch was fearful of everything other than death.   
Razz flinches, stepping back.  
He throws his hand forward as hard as he could, whipping it across Stretch’s skull. The sound of a cracking whip fills the silence, followed by a gasp. Razz grins at the dent he’s left in Stretch’s skull that’s slowly turning a bright shade of red.  
‘You were the only one that was different from everyone else.’   
Razz hooks Blue by the arm, taking the shorter Berry over his shoulder before moving away from Stretch. Blue stays silent as the two of them walk from Stretch.

\-----

‘I’ll wake to return to you.’  
Even if he were to believe in those words, he would never be able to deliver his wishes to the skies, he who cannot even lift a finger. The moon rises through the night of empty screams and the crackling of the lit bonfire.   
Red looks to the flowers he sits close to, the petals droop towards the floor, Erica, the spouts a bright shade of purple mixed with the dullness of the accompanying green of the stem. His brother prods at his shoulder, the mumblings under his breath are too hard to hear, especially over the pounding that rung in his head.   
‘Red.’ A single word he hears, nothing more. Was that his name? He had long forgotten. Exhaustion rests on his shoulders, eyelids threatening to stay closed until the day that the moon would no longer rise for him.   
‘Please come back to me.’ There are tears coming from his brother’s eyes, the bright red scarf his brother would wear was stained. _It’s ruined_ he wants to say. The stains turn the scarf from a bright torn red to a musty greyish colour, it’s hard to tell though. He reaches his hand up, it’s painful but he does it, wiping away Edge’s tear with his thumb. His brother’s cheekbones are stained with tears that streak down his face, it’s annoying how the flow doesn’t stop.  
Edge takes his hand lightly bringing it down.  
‘I’m so sorry. Razz should’ve told me sooner..’ His brother murmurs, it’s different from his usual loud and snarky attitude.   
_Please just return._

 

Red wanted to scream, to wail at the moon, at his brother but his throat was stained and broken. He trusted them, all of them. He _loved_ them. Family or not, it was all he had in this entirely screwed universe. All he had was his family.

\-----

‘Brother, what was mother like?’ Red looked up from his book of human physics to his little brother. About four at the time who fidgeted with the Rubix cube he had in his hands. 

_’Be a good boy and say nothing about this, Sans.’_   
_’Dad- AhhHH’_

‘Mum... Mum was great, Papyrus. Kind of like you, so bright that it hurt my eyes.’ He returns, prideful, reminiscing the times when his mother fought through entire snow storms to pick him up from school.  
‘You don’t have eyes! We’re skeletons!’ Edge had retorted, a chirp in his voice as he bounced on Red’s knee. 

Was it impossible to turn back?

 _Was this the beginning or the end?_ he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead yet! Had a piano competition so I'm very sorry everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a very slow burn story, please read the tags.  
> Thank you and Enjoy!  
> (Apologise, I don’t speak French)


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